


Musings of a Dead Man

by transmarkwatney (felilivargas)



Category: The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 03:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11222865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felilivargas/pseuds/transmarkwatney
Summary: The Ares 3 crew fails to retrieve Mark from the Mav. Short and sweet.





	Musings of a Dead Man

When the crew of Ares 3 came to retrieve Mark from the Mav, they failed. They weren't able to go at a speed close enough to that of the Mav to retrieve him. So when Mark awoke, they told him what happened, and he had to swallow his gut and take it.

Just as he'd planned, Mark lifted his arm to reveal the control panel of his suit and set the atmosphere to 0% oxygen. He confirmed the change, and waited for the computer to make the change. It'll be just like going to sleep, he told himself. He wouldn't even notice. He'd just go tired, and, eventually, he'd be too tired to keep himself awake. It would be less painful than waiting around to die of starvation, anyways, or staying alive much longer with his ribs hurting the way he did.

He lay there, in his seat, and slowly began to grow tired. He tried not to let misery overtake him, but he couldn't stop it. He untied himself from his seat--that really shouldn't have felt as heavy as it did, he thought--and turned to look at the stars outside the torn canvas of the Mav. He wondered what his crew was thinking right then. They'd risked their lives and careers and taken years out of time they could have been on Earth to save him, and... they couldn't...

He tried to think about all the people, effort, and money that had gone into saving him, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. What was the word for what he couldn't do... imagine? No... comprehend. That was a better word. He couldn't comprehend it. He was too tired.

He kept staring at the stars. In his short life, something in him realized, he'd traveled a lot further than most people do in their lifetimes, and seen things few could say they've seen in person. He'd stood and lived and thrived on an alien planet for a year and a half. He'd farmed the soil of Mars, and traversed valleys and flatlands and crater-filled terrain further than most of humanity can say they've ever even dreamed of traveling. His 7th-grade self, who dreamed of traversing the stars would be proud of him.

The stars grew blurry, and he became vaguely aware that he couldn't control his eyelids. What a shame, he thought, although he was too tired to put the thoughtform into words. I'm dying, and I don't even have gravity to close my eyes for me. Should I close them myself? But then he realized he didn't want to take his gaze from the stars.

And so, Mark Watney died, the stars blurring and the darkness of space consuming his vision. He wanted to fight it, but he had no energy left with which to fight. The sensation of the flight suit grew to numbness, and the blackness transformed into nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Was originally lore for [this fandragon](http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&tab=dragon&id=292462&did=33685153) on FR. Can't promise he'll keep that lore, though.


End file.
